


Visions of Odysseus

by Bisexualtrashlord



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Different moments in time, Flint is sad again, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Post-show spoilers, The Odyssey is back bois
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 21:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13303809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bisexualtrashlord/pseuds/Bisexualtrashlord
Summary: A man on a journey, in search of a home. Everything in his wake trying to stop him. Luckily, this man is stronger than all of it. Flint isn't the first to go through it.A story of two men, and their connection.





	Visions of Odysseus

**Author's Note:**

> Hey team. I'll never get tired of parallels between Odysseus and Flint, one of my favorite connections ever, here's how Flint's journey can be tracked through the old myth. Enjoy!

It was warm.

The kind of warm that sinks, fills, and comforts. A deep heat that’s centered in one spot, that would dissipate instantly if one moved. The kind of warm that urges a person to stay right where they are.

James and Thomas were curled in on one another, legs tangled up in the sheets. Skin melded with skin, sighs were breathed out as one, content and soothed. The warmth and softness contrasted with the chilly, grey London rain that pitter-pattered down outside.

Thomas’s fingers ran feather light over James’s chest, gently raking over the dusts of hair he found there. He hummed, his soft smile getting softer at the way James’s hand smoothed over his back at the found. Mornings such as these, ones when they were in James’s room, cozy and loved and lived in, familiarizing and blessing each other’s bodies, were the ones that felt most like dreams.

“Must you go?” Thomas murmured, ceasing his hand and gazing up at James, who let out a small grunt.

“Unfortunately, though I can spare a few more moments,” replied James with a smirk.

“I wish you could spare a million,” said Thomas. James chuckled and leant down, gently kissing him. Thomas rolled away from him so James could rise from the bed. The other man rose out of the cocoon of sheets, biting back a hiss when the chill of the room snaked across his skin as he gathered what he needed of his navy uniform.

“There will be a million and one moments waiting for us when I return. A month will pass by before you know it,” said James, smoothing his shirts.

“Yes, one month of Miranda and I alone without our greatest friend, leaving us to interact with stuffy nobles all on our own. They’re no fun,” sighed Thomas.

“I don’t know how you and Miranda managed without me,” James joked.

“Neither do we,” Thomas replied softly.

James turned and, seeing the utterly soft and sincere expression on Thomas’s face, laid his uniform on the table in the corner in the room, and returned to join Thomas on the bed. Thomas wrapped his arms around the other man instantly, pulling him down among the sheets.

“I can’t remember the last time a month felt so long. You have the ability to slow down time,” said Thomas.

“Do I?” asked James with a raised eyebrow.

Thomas nodded, “Yes. When you leave, one month feels like twenty years.”

“You liken me to Odysseus?” asked James, reaching out to run his hands over Thomas’s arm.

“The comparison seemed very apt to me,” replied Thomas, smirking.

“Oh? How so?” This was one of his favorite moments with Thomas, when they could forget about titles and duty and lose themselves in their books, the characters that touched them, and imagine a world other than this one.

“You’re both world travelers and exceptional sailors, seeing new places and making discoveries. Not to mention, you both are incredibly handsome,” said Thomas, reaching out to skate his fingers along James’s jaw.

“I don’t remember anything about is looks being mentioned in the translation I read,” chuckled James.

“Ah yes but that was written into the details James. Homer knew what he was doing.”

James chuckled again, low and deep in his belly; it vibrated through his body, making Thomas hum and snuggle closer to the other man.

“There’s another reason why you and Odysseus are alike.”

“What’s that?”

“You both have lovers, devoted lovers that will wait till the ends of the earth to see you return,” Thomas murmured.

“Thomas…” James breathed.

“It’s true. I will always wait for you, to see you return to my arms. One month, three, a year, ten. I will wait,” said Thomas.

“I promise you will never have to wait ten years. I can’t imagine being away from you for one year, let alone ten. I promise, I will always come back to you,” whispered James.

Thomas said nothing, but leant in and kissed James, chaste and soft, James kissing the same way. They parted, lips ghosting over each other.

“Now, sadly, I believe it is time that you must leave, yes? You don’t want to be late,” said Thomas.

James sighed, “Sadly.” He rose from the bed and began to put on the layers of his uniform. When he was dressed, he turned back to Thomas, still sleep soft and lazily smiling, legs curled in his sheets.

“Go. Help change the world, my Odysseus,” Thomas murmured as James nodded and left his room.

**oOo**

It was warm.

The kind that stews on top of skin, suffocates the lungs. The air is still and muggy; sweat sticking to every inch of one’s body. The kind that felt like they were melting.

James was used to this heat by now. Deep in the belly of his ship is when he felt it most, among the wood and other men as they went about their business. This warmth did not bother him…most of the time.

But when he was alone in his cabin, when all the matters were tended to and he was alone with his thoughts, the warmth overtook him, smothered him. The warmth, with its overwhelming sense and way of weighing him down, made his thoughts turn dark. He would think of Thomas; he would think of him, lying limp in a cell in Bethlem, away from everything he knew and loved, dying alone. Because of James. He would think of every horrifying scenario that led Thomas to his demise; he wondered if he was dragged off mid-conversation with Miranda, or if they came in the dead of night and took him away. James would think of Thomas resenting him, looking down at him from heaven (heaven isn’t good enough for him, James thought) angry for abandoning him, for never truly loving him. For if James really loved him, he would have stopped Alfred from taking him away.

The sob that would rip from James’s lips would usually snap him out of such thoughts.

James often wondered if Odysseus, when he would be alone, floating on a plank of wood in the middle of the ocean, ever thought about…ending it. Ending it all. All he would have had to do was let go of the plank and let himself sink. Did Odysseus, when his men died in front of him ever consider following them? Letting the waves take him over, letting Poseidon win, and allow for Hermes to meet him to guide him to Styx.

Did Odysseus ever think about his family being dead? Or moving on from him? Twenty years is nearly a lifetime of waiting. James wondered, reading and re-reading the pages in the depths of his warm ship, if Odysseus let himself float in the sea for too long before swimming back up to the surface, back up to the light from the darkness.

On the nights when everyone was below decks, he would go up top, and stare into the inky blackness of the sea, and just…think about it.

Judging by how Odysseus’s story ended, James admires his resolve. He only wished his was larger at times.

**oOo**

It was warm.

The kind that wisps around in the air, settles and kisses everything in its sight. It was raining today. Water came down in thick curtains, thick humidity hugging the leaves and grass around them. While the day was wet and grey and meant a day inside, neither man wore a frown. For they knew that this rain would only bring about good things, new things, greener things. The rain would play gardener for them, watering and clearing earth; it would tend to their carrots and cabbages and flowers and shrubs. This rain was not like the rain in London, the kind that was icy, unforgiving, hindered more than it grew. This rain told of progress, of something better left in its wake when it went away. This rain was kind, it looked and smelled and sounded like kindness.

It sounded like love.

James and Thomas loved to watch the rain. From their little porch on their little house, they watched the water hit their garden, further fertilizing their own patch of Eden.

“At the rate it’s falling, we might end up with a pond,” commented Thomas, a lazy smile spread across his face.

“That would be nice, then we could have something for respite when the sun gets too hot,” replied James, turning to face Thomas. Both men had grey mixed in with their blond and red hair, more wrinkles and laugh lines from making up for lost time, helping remind each other what happiness meant.

“It feels like we’re in a myth, does it not?”

“Oh?” though James knew where this was headed, a small smile gracing his face when he remembered when they used to do this all those years ago.

“A lush scene in front of us, nothing but nature and greenery and fertility. And my Odysseus is here,” Thomas said softly.

“That would make you like Calypso.”

“Hmmm, it might.”

“Are you offering an alternate retelling?”

“Yes,” Thomas murmured, scooting closer to James.

“What are the changes?”

“I like to think, that after Odysseus returned home, after he found peace, Ithaca burst with life, things became lusher than they ever have. And that I am Penelope, here to witness it all before my eyes with my beloved as well,” said Thomas.

“All of that happened because a man returned home, did it?” James joked.

“Yes, for heaven and earth know when things are set right. When people reunite after so very long apart, when it’s time to clear everything, and start anew.” Thomas whispered, planting a kiss on James’s shoulder. James leant in and kissed Thomas’s temple.

“By that logic, I imagine we’re going to get more rain like this,” James whispered against his temple.

“I look forward to it,” replied Thomas, turning so James captured his lips instead. They parted, noses brushing against each other as neither spoke, letting the rain do the talking for them, doing what Thomas said it was going to do. Wash away old and encourage new, improve upon what was already there, help build a home.

Their home.

 


End file.
